Recorded in the rain, but under a pavilion. You can hear both the river and the car traffic near me. This is such a great poem, however, that I didn't want to wait, but I did skip a critical part of the analysis: that's what I get for doing it in one take and without notes.
See below the poem for my additional commentary, if you wish.
TEXT OF POEM
"Upon my Son Samuel, His Going for England, November 6, 1657"
By Anne Bradstreet
Thou mighty God of sea and land,
I here resign into thy hand
The son of prayers, of vows, of tears,
The child I stay’d for many years.
Thou heard’st me then, and gav’st him me;
Here me again, I give him Thee.
He’s mine, but more, O Lord, thine own,
For sure thy grace on him is shown.
No friend I have like Thee to trust,
For mortal helps are brittle dust.
Preserve, O Lord, from storms and wrack,
Protect him there, and bring him back;
And if thou shalt spare me a space,
That I again may see his face,
Then shall I celebrate thy praise,
And bless Thee for’t even all my days.
If otherwise I go to rest,
Thy will be done, for that is best;
Persuade my heart I shall him see
Forever happified with Thee.
Missing commentary:
Look at the final quatrain (four lines). There you'll see that she does not express her concern for her son's safety, but her own. Earlier she says, "Protect him there, and bring him back," she pleads, "That I again may see his face." She promises that, if he does so, she will praise God forever.
But she acknowledges that there is more than just his safety at issue. If she dies, she says in those final lines, she has hope to see her son again in heaven.
What a perfect sacrificing-mother move. "If I die," she seems to say, "at least let me know that my son is OK." She doesn't express any concern or worry about her own safety or survival, so long as she knows that her son will be protected. That's top-shelf mother love, there. Dang.